


Of Whiskey and Dragons

by EchoResonance



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoResonance/pseuds/EchoResonance
Summary: Jesse McCree had traded excitement for a peaceful life, owning a small diner in a quiet town. It's the sort of place that attracts all kinds of folk, and at one point he was sure he knew everybody in town. However, on a short-staffed Friday night a new face turns up. This stranger, paired with a prolonged absence from one of Jesse's own employees, throws his entire world off-kilter and finds him plunging headfirst into a lot more than he bargained for.He couldn't find it in himself to regret a single moment.Potentially triggering content; not in immediate chapters, but it is a major point of the fic





	Of Whiskey and Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> McHanzo week Day 2: Modern AU

“Has the boy called in again?”

Jesse paused in grabbing the plates for tables four and seven to look up. Reinhardt stood with his thick arms crossed over a barrel of a chest, the scowl on his face appropriately intimidating to somebody who didn’t know him. The chef was about as mean on outside as he was soft on the inside, like a scary stuffed animal, and Jesse had known him far too long to mistake concern for anger.

“Yep,” he answered with a shrug. “Won’t say much about it, just that he’s real sick but he’s gettin’ treated for it.”

“For the amount of time he’s missed, should you not be more worried?” Reinhardt said.

“Are you kiddin’ me? He’s in his twenties in a town that has a community college and its fair share of bars; he’s probably just always hungover,” Jesse said. “Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a hard worker.”

“When he’s here,” the man muttered.

Ignoring him, Jesse placed the remaining dishes on a tray and hurried back into the main restaurant. The diner was hardly packed, but when only four people were working there wasn’t exactly leisure time. Hana stood at the front, popping her gum while she surreptitiously played a handheld game behind the podium. Jesse would have to talk to her about that later, even if he already knew it wouldn’t yield any results aside from her possibly figuring out how to be more sneaky about it.

Reinhardt singlehandedly managed the kitchen, though that would be the case even if Jesse had a dozen employees to spare. The man did not like sharing the space and there really was no need for it anyway. He never failed to impress Jesse both with his speed and his skill in cooking. Once Jesse would have sworn that good food was impossible to make quickly, but Reinhardt had laid those beliefs to rest.

The only other person working was Lena, an uppity student from England spending a year abroad. She was a cheerful girl, always earned good tips, and was impressively quick on her feet. If Jesse wasn’t paying attention and blinked, the girl seemed to just teleport between tables, giggling and writing down orders and charming everyone with her infectious smile. She even had a line when she delivered a table’s food: “Don’t worry, luvs; cavalry’s here!” When she went home, she would be missed by everyone.

Understaffed as they were, Jesse couldn’t afford to worry about his pride as the owner as he bussed tables alongside his employee. To be fair, he didn’t take the job because he didn’t like the work. Table seven was comprised of a single mother with two children, twins by the look of them, and when Jesse arrived she flashed him a blinding smile.

“Can’t fool me, darlin’,” Jesse drawled, grinning as he set their plates on the table. “I know that look’s just fer the food.”

“You caught me,” she confessed. Her attention snapped away from him and to her kids in the next instant. “Ethan, no, that’s your brother’s--Jake, that doesn’t mean you can--”

Jesse beat a hasty retreat, knowing full well that no waiter was safe from flying food when little kids were involved. His other table was a booth in the corner of the diner who had just ordered a cup of green tea and was, according to Lena, not much for conversation. Well, anybody that came to a diner at nine on a Friday night and ordered a hot tea wasn’t much for anything but watching the news and petting cats, Jesse figured. It was probably a grumpy old man that made a hobby out of yelling at kids to clear off his lawn.

_ Naw, Jack hasn’t been here in ages _ , said a voice in the back of his head. Jesse chuckled at his own joke and started toward table four. All he could see of the person sitting there was the top of their head; they were bent over something on the table. Their hair gleamed ebony in the overhead light and was tied back neatly in a ponytail.

When he grew closer Jesse could make out broad shoulders and the profile of a strong jaw covered with a meticulously groomed peppery beard. Metal gleamed from the patron’s ear; an industrial piercing and a couple of studs. Jesse’s stomach flipped and he wondered if Lena had given him the order to take out on purpose. She was constantly hounding him about finding a date, settling down, all that stuff.

“‘Scuse me,” Jesse said when he reached the table. “This tea yours?”

They looked up and Jesse felt his stomach drop completely. Dark eyes set deep in a handsome face met his gaze and a single thick brow ticked upwards. Long-fingered hands sat a slim smartphone on the tabletop, the screen black.

“Yes,” the stranger answered, voice low and rough.

“Right, here ya go,” he said, customer service reflexes kicking in while his brain tripped over pickup lines and prose about knife-edge cheekbones. “Anythin’ else I can do fer ya, Mr…?”

The stranger frowned up at him, and Jesse’s smile faltered slightly. He didn’t make a habit of learning his patrons’ names, but he couldn’t help it if his flirting worked faster than his common sense.

“Shimada,” the man said, jerking Jesse from his thoughts. “You may call me Shimada.”

“Alright,” Jesse said, relaxing. “Name’s Jesse McCree. Can’t help noticin’ that ya don’t exactly look like yer from here.”

The man had an accent to match his features, and Jesse wondered if maybe he wasn’t untalkative so much as he was confused. Understanding a language you weren’t fluent in was a difficult and trying experience, as Jesse himself could attest to. Maybe the guy’s English just wasn’t all that great.

The man’s gaze narrowed again and his hand, which had been reaching for the tea Jesse had placed on the table, paused. Those dark eyes bored into Jesse’s and that eyebrow twitched upward again.

“Sorry, I talk too fast sometimes,” Jesse said, taking care to enunciate. “Where’re ya from?”

“Do you make a habit of assuming a person does not understand you if they look foreign and speak accented English?”

Jesse blinked. Shimada scowled up at him with thinly veiled distaste, fingers receding from his tea to lace with those of his right hand, and heat flooded Jesse’s face.

“Uh…” Jesse said helpfully. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, I just--”

“You assumed,” Shimada finished, “that I was not speaking because I did not understand you. As fools are wont to do.”

“Ahaha...That’s a little harsh, dontcha think?” Jesse said, scratching the back of his neck. “I think it’s fair to assume a language barrier when the fella yer talkin’ to looks ‘bout as lost as a horse in a chicken coop.”

“Pardon me if I am eager to spend what little time to I have to myself in comfortable silence,” the man said drily. “I do not feel that this gives you the freedom to simply assume that I cannot understand English.”

“Alright, alright, I see yer point,” Jesse said, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry fer assumin’, really I didn’t mean offense.”

Shimada gave him a long, searching look, and the crease in his forehead lessened. Scowl fading, he reached for the tea again and brought the mug to his lips, taking a small sip before speaking again.

“You are forgiven,” he said when he sat the cup down. The tension fled Jesse’s shoulders. “I sometimes forget that not everyone is so used to immigrants.”

“Aw, none a’ that,” Jesse said, his cheer restored now that the danger had passed. “My chef’s from Germany. Hell, I’m from a bit farther south than a lotta these folks would prefer, but there ain’t any actual proof o’ that.”

Shimada raised an eyebrow at him, and when he spoke next he very nearly gave Jesse a heart attack, because it was in accented Spanish.

_ “You are from Central America? Or South?” _

Jesse covered his shock with a wry grin.

“Now who’s assumin’ stuff?” he teased. “What if I moved here when I was still a baby? Or I didn’t speak Spanish?”

“You implied you were not from very far in the south,” Shimada pointed out. “Though I suppose you may very well have moved here when you were still young. My apologies for assuming.”

Now, Jesse may have been dense, but even he couldn’t have missed the miniscule upward tick at the corner of Shimada’s lips. That prompted a wide grin from Jesse, who jerked his chin at the seat opposite Shimada in a question and happily claimed it when the man nodded.

_ “I do speak Spanish, though,” _ Jesse said as he sat himself down.

“Ah, so your goal was simply to make me feel guilty,” Shimada snorted. “Perhaps you are more clever than you look.”

“I’ll have you know I’m plenty clever,” Jesse said, chest puffing out.

Shimada hummed noncommittally and took another sip of tea.

“Well, what about you?” Jesse challenged. “What makes you think yer so smart?”

“I certainly hope schools are not in the business of hiring people that are not intelligent,” Shimada said off-handedly.

“So you’re a teacher?” Jesse said.

“Professor,” Shimada corrected. “I teach Eastern Asian Studies and third level Japanese at the local college.”

A low whistle escaped Jesse.

“You Japanese, then?” he guessed. “Explains the name. Yer family name, right?”

“Yes,” Shimada answered.

“So what kinda stuff do ya teach in that Asian Studies class?”

The look Shimada gave him was searching. Under his scrutiny Jesse felt himself sit a little straighter, and he wondered if the man’s lips twitched because he noticed that. He chose to believe that no, he wasn’t  _ that _ obvious.

“Cultural ‘stuff,’ mostly,” he said. “Traditions and mythology.”

“Oh, I love a good folk tale,” Jesse said, folding his arms on the table. “Well, Teach? Get ta learnin’.”

“I believe I mentioned that I do not get much time to myself,” Shimada answered. “While I appreciate your interest, I would like to spend the evening not thinking of the projects I must begin grading tomorrow.”

“Ah, fine then,” Jesse sighed theatrically. “How ‘bout instead of a story, ya give me yer number?”

Shimada blinked.

“My number?” he echoed.

“Yeah, you’ve got a cell, dontcha?” Jesse said. “Give me yer number so I can hound ya about those stories some other time.”

Bemused was a good look on Shimada. It rose one brow higher than the other and curved his lips up on one side so that a slight dimple appeared in his cheek. Charming.

“I suppose there would be no harm in that,” he conceded. He held out his hand to Jesse, who wasted no time in whipping out his phone and passing it to the man. “I am not the most punctual when it comes to texting, just so you are aware.”

“Aw, shucks darlin’,” Jesse said. “I’m just flattered yer actually givin’ me yer number.”

The man hesitated in the act of entering his number to shoot Jesse a curious look that made warmth creep across his cheeks.

“Do you commonly ask people for their numbers without meaning it?” he wondered.

Jesse reached back to scratch at his neck.

“Aw, well,” he mumbled. “S’not that I don’t mean it--it’s just...well…”

“People do not often wish to give you their numbers,” Shimada guessed, lips still quirked up ever so slightly. “I cannot imagine why.”

Jesse hesitated, his own lips curving. The man slid his phone back across the table and Jesse scooped it up, eyes still glued on him.

“Yer teasin’ me,” he said.

Shimada didn’t answer and took another drink of tea-- _ it’s gotta be cold by now _ \--but behind the rim of the cup, his smirk grew. Relaxing back, Jesse slid his cell into his jeans pocket and drummed his fingers lazily on the table.

“Any particular reason you chose t’spend yer Friday night in my fine establishment?” Jesse wondered.

“You are the owner?” Shimada said, surprised. “But you are waiting tables.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve been a little short staffed lately,” Jesse said with a shrug. “One’a my usual employees up and got sick on me. Someone’s gotta pull up the slack, might as well be me.”

Shimada’s smile, already small, slipped a little.

“This employee,” he said. “He has been sick for a while now?”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t remember sayin’ it was a ‘he’,” he noted.

Shimada blinked and lowered his gaze to glare at his cup.

“Hey now, no need for that face,” Jesse chuckled. “Ya can’t just expect me t’tell a stranger all about my workers, can ya? Seems like an invasion of privacy, don’t it?”

“I suppose that is understandable,” Shimada said. “Forgive my imprudence.”

“Naw, no harm done,” Jesse said cheerily. 

His eyes flicked down to his watch, then around the diner. The only table still occupied aside from theirs was seven, but the woman seemed to be attempting to round up her boys so that they could go.

“I hope you are not avoiding work simply to sit with me,” Shimada said.

“Ya caught me,” Jesse grinned, holding his hands up in front of him. “I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t tell the boss. I hear he’s a bit of an asshole.”

“Is that so?” Shimada hummed. “I was under the impression he was simply a fool who flirts with his patrons.”

“You’re not wrong,” chirped a voice from the front door. Both men looked around to find Hana smirking at them.

“Careful, you,” Jesse warned her, but he was smiling as he spoke. “I don’t wanna have t’write you up fer slander.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hana snorted. “You wanna tell your new friend that we’re closing soon, or should I?”

Jesse blinked and glanced down at his watch.

“Well shit,” he chuckled. “Sorry Darlin’, looks like I lost track’a the time.”

Shimada snorted.

“I will take my leave, then,” he answered.

“Ya don’t gotta pay fer the tea,” Jesse said when the man reached for his pocket. 

“I question how sound your business practices are,” Shimada said. “I will pay.”

Bemusement ticked Jesse’s lips upward as he stood, Shimada following moments behind with a ten dollar bill.

“Right, I’ll get yer change in just a sec,” Jesse said.

“No need,” Shimada replied as he shrugged on a pristine jacket the same color as his slacks.

“You sure?” Jesse wondered. “That tip is more than that there drink.”

“I am sure. The company was better than the drink in any case,” Shimada said.

“That a compliment to my glowin’ personality or an insult to the cheap tea?” Jesse wondered.

Shimada gave him a long stare, dark gaze raking over Jesse’s build before settling on his own. Jesse shivered.

“Interpret it how you will,” he answered. “Farewell, Jesse McCree.”

Jesse grinned and held out a hand.

“I’ll be in touch, Shimada-san,” he said.

Shimada raised an eyebrow and, after a moment of deliberation, grasped Jesse’s fingers briefly in his own. His grip was firm, but not punishing, and Jesse felt callouses beneath his palm before the man pulled away and turned to the doors. He nodded at Hana, then pushed his way outside into the cool night.

“Well, isn’t he just a charmer?” came a giggle from the kitchen entrance.

Jesse smirked over at Lena.

“Think you’ll find that I’m the charming one,” he said. “I got the cell number.”

“You mean he actually has a thing for your cowboy aesthetic?” Hana says in mock outrage. “And here I thought he seemed okay.”

“‘Scuse me, you little gremlin,” Jesse growled, taking a playful swipe at her shoulder. She dodged easily, sticking her tongue out at him as she scampered back toward Lena.

“Shall we clean up, or are you gonna close up shop tonight?” Lena asked, still grinning.

Jesse pondered that, then shrugged and dug the keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll leave it to y’all,” he said, tossing them across the room to Lena. She plucked them out of the air with ease. “Long as you don’t let that li’l lady get ahold of ‘em.”

“Aye-aye, captain!” Lena saluted.

“No trust,” Hana pouted. She waved at Jesse as he left, though, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her start on wiping down the tables. 

_ Good kid when she thinks no one’s lookin’ _ , he thought wryly.

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, if you're in for this one, you're in for a looong ride. I've been working on this little ditty for a while already, it just happened to fit Day 2's prompt.  
> Beware of many feels ahead
> 
> Also, while I will incorporate the characters speaking various languages from time to time, I do not know these languages well enough to feel comfortable using them directly, and I don't trust google translate, so you get italics instead. Apologies, but I'd rather do that than make an unwitting or offensive mistake by trying to muddle through


End file.
